


The Last Marauder

by mme_riphaldin



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-12
Updated: 2010-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mme_riphaldin/pseuds/mme_riphaldin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus is irate. Sirius is depressed. And in prison. Remus writes a letter. Sirius is even more depressed. Shortly after Halloween, 1981.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Marauder

_Pisces: Today is a day of relaxation. Disagreements with friends will be resolved after you talk and clear the air amongst yourselves._

_Hardy har,_ Remus Lupin thought sourly. Yes, that'd be an enjoyable way to spend his day. Clear the air with Sirius. Just Apparate over to Azkaban and…

_Merlin, who am I kidding? That air will never be clear. Not in a thousand years. But even so, I can't help but feel sick about losing him. I've lost everyone. James and Lily and Peter and now Sirius. I'm the last Marauder._

With the proverbial boom, realization hit him.

_I'm the last Marauder. They're all gone._ All gone. _I'm the last one left._

Crying seemed like an appropriate action, or even mock celebrating his survival. Instead, Remus sat down and Accio'd his quill, ink, and parchment.

_Time to write a letter…_  
************************************************************************  
_Merlin, this is the worst prison ever. There's no way to affect the Dementors. They just suck and suck at your soul and no amount of screaming or cursing or harassment bothers them in the slightest. _

Sirius Black banged his head against the wall. "I didn't do it!" he shouted to a world that didn't care.

Laughter echoed in a neighboring cell. "No one's ever done 'it', my boy," someone said before laughing maniacally.

_This is ridiculous. I can't even talk to the other prisoners. They're all nutters and_ His _followers. I just want to talk, for the first time in my life, and I can't._

A Dementor swept down the hallway. It stopped in front of Sirius' cell and let a roll of parchment float to the floor by Sirius' feet.

"What's this," he asked, forgetting in his anger that Dementors didn't speak. The Dementor simply swept away. "Oi! I said, what's this?!"

_Well, if there's poison in it, then I'll die and good riddance. And if not… well, this is probably the only bit of post I'll get for a while. Might as well look at it._

He picked up the roll of parchment and slit it open.

"Oh my God…"  
************************************************************************  
_Dear Padfoot,_

Well, I feel I should offer you some congratulations. You've managed to break apart the most loyal group of brothers since the Round Table. I always knew you were destined to do something remarkable. Most excellent. I commend you.

I'm sorry. You've often reminded me how much you hate sarcasm, especially mine. And if you think that I actually approve… well, I'm sure somewhere along the way, you learned that traitors never garner much approval. And that is what you are, Sirius. You are a traitor.

A traitor, Sirius. Say the word aloud, why don't you. Taste it, feel how it treats your tongue. Do you not like that, dear Padfoot? I'm sorry. I do sympathize a bit, however. I know that if it makes me want to regurgitate my food, it must be even worse for you. If you actually feel any remorse, that is.

So, down to business, Master Padfoot. Your planning and deception have come to that long awaited bud. Lily and James are dead. Let's repeat that. LILY and JAMES are DEAD. You killed them. The world shall never see them again. Can you even begin to understand that? I'm having a little trouble with the concept, frankly. And of course, there's Harry. Harry, your supposed godson, is left to face the world alone. Dumbledore brought him to Petunia's. You remember her, I'm sure. Lily's reluctant maid of honor. What a life that boy will have. I'm sure you remember her hatred of wizards, her frequent assertions that we are all "freaks". That will work out well for the son of the best witch and wizard that we have ever met, bar Dumbledore.

But the Potters are not the only ones affected, oh no. Such small reverberations of a crime would be too small for the great Sirius Black. Did you never think of their friends? Mary and Stacey? They had as close a relationship as the Marauders; closer, in fact, as evidenced by your betrayal. And of course there's Peter. You killed him too, in cold blood as opposed to backstabbing. What about his mother, who now grieves for the boy you so ruthlessly killed? Can you even begin to comprehend what her life will be like now? I know you never thought much of Peter, but he was her everything, her pride and joy. What about your family? You let down Andromeda, who was always so proud that you too escaped the clutches of the Blacks. You let them win. You went back to them in the end, even though you swore you'd die first. What about me, Sirius? I'm alone now, as I've finally realized. You've managed to take everything from me: three brothers, one sister, one son. My pack. You destroyed the pack. Merlin help you if I ever run across Padfoot while the moon is full. You won't live to tell of the wrath of the pack-deprived wolf.

I don't know what else to say to you. We all learned years ago that there is no way to make you feel guilty; if the emotion ever visits your heart, it is because you did something horrid and you share in that assessment. I doubt you care about anything I have said. You're the hero now. I'm sure if you ever meet Voldemort or any Death Eaters, you will be greeted with hugs and congratulations. I'm sure they even threw a party for you the night you arrived at prison. But I feel I should warn you of how I will greet you. You used to say that you'd hate to get on my bad side because I hold grudges. I reckon this is as good an incident as any to hold a grudge about. If we ever meet again, my wand or my jaw will be at your throat faster than you can even remember the appellation Moony. Yet even with the same quill and parchment that I threaten your death, I can scribe this as well: I miss you, Padfoot. I know now that there will never be a day that I don't miss you. I just wish I knew that you missed me and the others as well.

I remain,  
The Last Marauder,   
Remus Lupin


End file.
